


Olvido

by Ms_Minty



Category: Ranma 1/2
Genre: Dark, Drugs, F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-03-10
Updated: 2014-03-10
Packaged: 2018-01-15 06:11:45
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 3
Words: 20,241
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1294378
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ms_Minty/pseuds/Ms_Minty
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>After Jusendo Ranma is...absent and Akane is shattered. Kasumi is trying to keep the house together, but at what cost?</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

Akane gasped and sat up in her bed, eyes straining to see her  
nightmare visions come to life. Her lips were half twisted into  
a name, a name that evaporated into the air. A chill touched her  
nape and she slid back beneath the sheets. Sleep was long in  
coming.

+++

Akane looked up from her breakfast for the third time. She was  
sure that Kasumi was watching her, but she couldn't quite catch her at  
it. Nabiki pushed back her bowl and snatched her books as she ran out the  
door. Something tugged at Akane's memory.

"Where is Nabiki going?" Soun's newspaper twitched and  
Kasumi gently put her chopsticks down. They exchanged a look  
then Kasumi smiled sunnily.

"She's going to school, Akane-chan."

"Why can't I go?" Kasumi's smile faded a little bit.

"You are very sick, Akane."

"Oh." Akane thought about this for a little while, then shrugged  
and left the table. She could almost hear the birds singing outside, and  
the koi would want some company. She smiled. Fish couldn't get lonely.

+++

"Moshi Moshi!"

"Doctor Tofu?"

"Ah, hello, Kasumi. How is everything today?"

"Oh, Doctor, I'm worried. She asked about school today."

"Has she shown any other signs?"

"No."

"It should be fine, then. How are you holding up?"

"It's very hard, Doctor. She smiles sometimes, and it's almost  
like before. But most of the time she sits and stares, or pads around the  
house aimlessly. I caught her up the in attic one day, looking at mother's  
wedding kimono..."

"You can't live like this forever, Kasumi. There are places that  
have people trained to deal with her kind of problems,"

"No."

"Just let me give you their number, we can check,"

"No."

"I understand."

"..."

"K-Kasumi, I'd like to talk to you about it sometime. M-May I take  
you to lunch?"

"I really can't..."

"It wouldn't be anything at all, please Kasumi..."

"Who would watch her?"

"Well, where is she now?"

"...."

"Kasumi?"

"Oh. Oh dear, Akane..."

"Kasumi? Kasumi?! Are you there? Kasumi!"

+++

A lone figure stood next to a snow-covered drift. The yard was  
desolate, the one tree left standing was twisted and black, twigs  
seeping through the winter sky like thin lines of poison through curdled  
milk. The figure was shivering, her flannel pajamas plastered to her by  
wind and wet. Her eyes remained fixed on the small shadow in front of her.

There weren't any fish, or any grass or leaves. There was a rock,  
but it wasn't in the right place. It looked like it had been ripped  
out, like a tooth, and left on its side. The girl's bottom lip began  
to twitch and contort. The wind yowled in her ears, and suddenly  
she couldn't take any more. She couldn't run, she could only cradle  
her head in her hands and try to shut out the noise, shut it all   
out, find him...

Arms suddenly wrapped around her from behind. Akane smiled, then  
frowned.

"Akane, you're freezing, your hands and feet are almost  
blue!" Kasumi started to tug the shivering child toward the comfort  
of the house. A little bit of tea and she'd be fine, then everything   
would be okay again...

"Kasumi, something's happened. The pond...the pond." Tracks of  
tears were freezing on Akane's cheeks. Kasumi stopped abruptly.

"Oh, Akane, I'm sorry. I'm sorry." She drew the cold little girl  
into her arms and felt the familiar sting of self-loathing. Tea wasn't  
enough. Nothing was enough.

Two figures stood against the wind and wished for summer.

+++

The door creaked slightly as Kasumi entered, holding a small  
platter. Akane shifted slightly in her sleep and sighed. The tall girl  
The door creaked slightly as Kasumi entered, holding a small  
platter. Akane shifted slightly in her sleep and sighed. The tall girl  
carefully placed the platter on the nightstand, and scanned the room for  
disorder. Last year, the room had been in shambles, blood stained the  
sheets, the rug, the splintered bedposts. But now the room was back in  
order, with the exception of a guilty cardboard box under Kasumi's bed. A  
box that contained the unremarkable mementos of a teenaged girl in love.

Kasumi picked the hypodermic needle up from the platter. With  
practiced ease, she slowly squirted a small amount of the liquid from the  
needle, clearing it of air bubbles. Softly humming to herself, she lifted  
the covers and exposed Akane's arm. A permanent purple bruise had formed  
there, and she pierced the heart of it, pushing for the tired vein that  
would rush the chemicals through Akane's heart and into her brain,  
where...

"Kasumi?" She froze, syringe half-emptied. A terrible dread filled  
her as she looked into her sister's face. Akane's pupils were as wide as  
dinner plates. Her sister had never woken up for her medication  
before. Seconds lurched by, and Kasumi felt her heart racing.

"Kasumi, where is he?" she managed to stutter out, before the  
drugs held her completely in thrall. Kasumi flinched slightly, needle  
coming out of her fingers to shatter on the floor next to Akane's bed.

+++

"Au matin j'avais le regard si perdu et la contenance si motte, que ceux  
que j'ai recontres ne m'ont peutetre pas vu." -Rimbaud

Akane woke up counting. She could tell it was going to be a  
wonderful day.

"1-2-3-4" She hummed the numbers, making them into her own special  
song. "5-6-7-8" Numbers were definitely her friends. They could tell her  
what day it was when her sister didn't want to say. "9-10-11-12" Move the  
desk that only she could manage and find could tell her what day it was  
when her sister didn't want to say. "9-10-11-12" Move the desk that only  
she could manage and find the scratches in the paint on the  
wall. "13-14-15-16" Stingy sister, trying to keep all the numbers to  
herself. "17-18-19!" Yes, today was the day. Akane carefully scratched a  
straight line next to all of the others. Just like a parade! Yes, today  
was good enough for a parade. All the lines danced for a moment, inviting  
her closer examination, but she shook her head and moved the desk back  
into place.

A good morning stretch just wasn't the same without the sunshine,  
so Akane flung open her curtains and...what was this? A pair of bloodshot  
eyes under a shag of blue-black hair greeted her. A tiny squeak of dismay  
escaped from her throat, and she drew her hand up to her mouth. The person  
did the same. Akane breathed out a sigh of relief, but drew it back in  
quickly. This was her? It was wrong, she wasn't skinny, her mouth wasn't  
so white, her hair was short, not long and shaggy. A shaking hand touched  
the image. No. This would not do.

Kasumi frowned at the cooling dish at Akane's place. Father had  
already gone into the yard to tend the bonsai, and Nabiki had long since  
run to school. 

"Akane-chan?" No answer. "AKANE!" Her frown deepened. She stood  
facing the wooden duck, willing herself not to relive another of her  
fateful entrances into this room. Kasumi silently asked her mother for  
strength, then opened the door. In the middle of the room sat Akane with a  
pair of safety scissors poised over her head. Hair covered the floor like  
an exotic carpet. Akane smiled and lopped off another lock. Kasumi felt  
like adding a few clumps of her own hair to the mess. She sighed and  
closed her eyes.

"Whatcha doin', sis?" The scissors fell to the ground, forgotten  
in her curiosity.

"Counting, Akane-chan." There was a moment of silence, then she  
felt a hand grip her arm.

"What numbers?" Kasumi's eyes blinked open and she regarded her  
sister, covered with hair, like some kind of animal.."What  
NUMBERS?" Akane's grip on her arm got tighter and suddenly Kasumi  
remembered bricks broken, people flying through the air, him flying  
through the air...

"Akane, I was just trying to stay calm." A light went out of  
Akane's eyes, and her hand dropped back to her side.

"Oh. Not mine."

"Now may I help you with your hair? It must have been hard without  
a mirror." Kasumi remembered, too late, that Akane's mirror had been  
shattered on that day. She quickly scanned her sister's face for a  
reaction, but there wasn't one.

"Please, Kasumi-chan." It was almost normal. An older sister  
helping her younger sister out. Almost. Kasumi sighed and ushered her  
sister into the bathroom, but not before Akane could steal a look back at  
her desk. And her numbers.

"Daddy!" Soun poised the shears over the last branch of the bonsai  
and prepared himself to face his youngest. He was so tired. Too many  
ghosts. He sighed and looked up at the girl. His hand snapped the shears  
together convulsively, ruining the bush. 

"Akane! You...your hair!" Akane beamed a smile at him. For a  
second it was as if he had gone back in time, back to when that smile  
meant something and the fire of hope still burned bright in his chest. But  
a closer examination showed him the thinness of her arms, the circles  
under her eyes. A haircut couldn't give him his daughter back. A shadow  
crossed over Akane's countenance, and Soun braced himself. She bent over  
and picked up the severed branch.

"Daddy, it's all lopsided now."

"Perfection in imperfection, daughter. That seems to be the way of  
our Art." 

"Just like he was, right?" Soun felt his heart turn over. 

"W-who do you mean, sweetheart?"

"Oh, nobody." Soun let it pass; any further conversation might  
goad her memory even more. He decided to change the subject.

"Why don't you get a few flowers for Kasumi?"

"Why? Are we having guests?"

"The old ones are wilted and dead, Akane." Soun turned back to the  
bonsai.

"Dead dead dead!" she agreed. "Dead Akane, dead dead!" He whirled  
around to face his daughter, a slow chill working his way up his  
spine. But she was already half way up the path, skipping cheerfully.

+++

Nabiki hated Saturdays.

She picked up her purse and her coat and headed for the door. The  
silence around the lunch table was too much today, and she wanted to see her  
friends as much as she could before college. College, it was such a  
heavenly word. Nabiki had resented her father for running away from his  
problems, but now she understood at least a little bit. A little part of  
her died each time she looked into Akane's eyes. Today had been especially  
bad: Akane had done something to her hair and Kasumi cut it back to the  
way it had been. Before. Nabiki pulled on her shoes and was out the front  
door, not bothering to announce her departure. Before was such a tricky  
word. It implies there has to be an After. She paused at the front gate,  
glancing back at the quiet house. After. What happened to the "Happily  
Ever" part?

A deep sigh escaped her lips and she touched the gate handle, only  
to have it pulled from her hands. Startled, she found herself facing a  
wide chest. Nabiki's hand flew to her throat and her heart was suddenly  
thundering in her ears. A martial artist's chest. 

"Nabiki-san, I'm sorry!"

"Ryoga-kun." Stupid, she thought. Stupid, stupid. "What are you  
doing here?"

He looked at the decrepit flowers in his hand. It would be easy to  
just wander off again. How many times had he tried that, and how many  
times did he find himself staring at that same gate? It was like a goddamn  
beacon burned into his brain. He couldn't find his own house, yet here he  
was, night after night, haunting this gate like a ghost...

"Ryoga-kun? Are you all right?" His eyes were drawn to hers, then  
down to the flowers again.

"Y-yes. Yes."

"We haven't seen you for a year; what have you been up to?" 

Ryoga almost shrieked with laughter. Staring at your gate, he wanted to  
yowl. His jaw clenched convulsively. "Lost. I've been lost." He cleared  
his throat. "Is Akane here?"

Nabiki looked away and sighed. Old faces didn't mean old  
times. "Yes. She's inside." She hugged her coat closer to herself and felt  
the cold breeze whisper through her hair. "But I have to leave."

"Oh, good-bye, Nabiki-san." But she was already gone.

Ryoga shrugged and trudged toward the house, throwing the flowers to one  
side. The stems were ripped and broken from his fists. Only good for that  
one thing, but not good enough, he thought sourly.

+++

When you hate yourself, everything is clearer,  
Nothin' changes and it never will. -Cub

Kasumi looked up from brushing her sister's hair. "Daddy, would you get  
the door?" But Akane was already up from her seat and rushing toward the  
door. "Akane! No!" She never hurt any of them, but most neighbors and  
sales people knew better than to go to that "crazy Tendo house." Some even  
whispered about a family curse. Kasumi wondered about that herself  
sometimes.

The door flew open and Ryoga found himself face to face with the youngest  
Tendo. Her brown eyes lit up and she jumped into his arms, holding him  
close to her. She was so small and warm, some faraway part of his brain  
thought. Why had he waited so long? His arms wrapped around  
her; everything was going to be fine. No more nights in front of the gate,  
he was inside now.

Akane suddenly thrust him away from her and kissed his nose. "P-chan,  
where have you been?" His eyes went wide and wild, then up to the eyes of  
a figure standing behind Akane. The grim brown eyes of Kasumi Tendo. She  
closed her eyes and shook her head. Akane pulled him inside. "You must be  
so hungry, P-chan!" 

Kasumi closed the door behind him. Yes, probably a curse.

+++

Ryoga was in hell.

That was the only explanation his mind could find. Akane had dutifully fed  
him, then dragged him up into her room, where she was now cooing over him  
like a good pet owner. He had tried to speak twice, each time confronted  
with an odd look from Akane, who then went back to her cooing over P-chan.  
Kasumi had given him a slightly accusatory look, then gone back into the  
kitchen.

"P-chan, I have a secret!" Akane's declaration brought him out of his dark  
train of thought. She patted him on the head and walked over to her  
desk. His heart went cold when he saw how her pajamas hung on her once  
sleek and muscled body. Where was his Akane? He recalled that fateful  
night, carrying what he thought to be her corpse off the mountain. Even  
all the blood had not compared to the horror of seeing her now. 

She pushed aside the desk and smiled at him. The hollows in her cheeks and  
under her eyes were ghost-like. Maybe that was a dead body he had  
recovered, clutched close to him, just like the doll she had been so  
shortly before. He shook the thought away.

"See, numbers!" She pointed at the lines in the plaster, organized in  
wavering groups of five. The first few were tinted brown. Blood, Ryoga  
realized. He winced. Akane smiled angelically. In her smile was the echo  
of the rumbling boulders, a mountain being shaken and brought down, an  
inhuman yowl of hate and loss.

"These first were hard to remember." Akane pointed to the first few  
sets. "They go five, ten, fifteen, twenty." The figure had risen  
unexpectedly behind the pair on the rock. It seemed like an eternity to  
Ryoga, watching his pigtail whip around to face the god. Enough time to  
whisper something to Akane and kiss her on the cheek. The god was blazing  
white heat, dwarfing the silouhettes in front of him.

"Then the numbers became my friends. Hundred, hundred-five,  
hundred-ten." He laid her gently down on the broken rock, wrapped in his  
own shirt. The only colors in the world were white, black, and red. Too  
much red.

"But then there were so many of them. They were a little scary  
sometimes. Two-hundred fifty, two-hundred fifty-five, two-hundred  
sixty." He had turned and faced the god. So small, Ryoga thought. But then  
his aura flared into life, a bright blue pillar stretching up into the  
heavens, piercing through the white blaze like sky through heavy cloud  
cover.

"I was so afraid. Afraid that Kasumi-oneechan knew somehow. That she'd  
take them away from me like everything else. Three-hundred twenty,  
three-hundred twenty-five." No sound at first, then a growing rumble,  
pierced with a keening cry that raked his heart. A growing blue swirl was  
piercing the white blaze until they seemed almost meshed and drove down  
into the mountain. The rumbling brought Ryoga to his feet. Oh no.

"Three-hundred forty, three-hundred forty-five." He meant to bring the  
mountain down. He rushed to Akane's side, clutching her close to him. She  
was so cold, yet with an oddly melancholy smile. He ran as fast and as far  
as he could, down the mountain and away from the pitched battle. Tears  
blurred the path in front of him, and bamboo whipped his arms and  
face. The earth screamed in agony as the mountain was pulled up from  
its foundation, darkening the sky and raining stones and dirt. A howling  
hurricane of displaced air crushed the trees around him, forcing him to  
lie flat on the ground, protecting Akane's body. A sudden silence of white  
noise, then the mountain grew bright blue cracks and exploded into the  
air. Over the terrible chaos, Ryoga thought he could hear his final  
battle cry, filled with anguished fury: "Akane!"

He felt two hands cup his face, and was startled to see her brown eyes  
glossy with tears. "Three-hundred and sixty-five, P-chan." Slowly her eyes  
blinked and two trails of tears surged down her cheeks. They were clear  
when she re-opened them. "Not P-chan. Ryoga." He braced for an impact that  
never came. He felt her hands start to shake. "Ryoga, where is Ranma?"

+++

Y cada herida tiene  
la forma de tu boca. -Pablo Neruda

The night had come slowly, sun tilting over the fence in maddening  
fractions. Nabiki was still out, Soun was pretending to read a paper,  
Akane and Ryoga were upstairs in her room, and this left Kasumi with open  
hands. She leaned wearily against the kitchen counter, shoulders slumped  
and face empty. In her apron pocket there was a number written on a scrap  
of paper. A number she hadn't wanted to even think about, an abomination  
from Dr. Tofu. But she found herself touching it, caressing it between her  
fingers. He was only trying to help, and she was just so tired. Perhaps  
it would be better for Akane to be out of the house, away from all the  
memories that Kasumi was hard pressed to conceal. She touched the phone,  
then drew her hand away from it sharply, as if burned. Mother. What would  
mother think if she just gave up on her youngest? What could she say to  
her shrine, 'Mom, I just sent your darling Akane to the looney bin?'  
No. That wouldn't do. She shoved the scrap back into her pocket and  
instead opened the cabinet above the sink. The vial of medicine gleamed  
darkly from the shadows. Akane had only received a half-dose yesterday and  
it led to all these troubles, with the haircut, and now Ryoga's visit.

Kasumi drew a fresh syringe from the specialized container and popped   
the top off. She would be sure to give Akane the full dose today, then  
everything could go back to normal. At times, she almost liked Akane that  
way. So childish and playful, it was like before Mother died. She filled  
the syringe and laid it on the tray. It really was for the best.

+++

Ryoga could hear the soft footsteps coming up the stairs, but he  
was powerless: face held in Akane's hands, her eyes desperately  
pleading an explanation. But what could he tell her? Didn't she already  
know? Couldn't she guess? How in the world was he going to tell her  
that his rival, her fiance, was, was...

"Akane! What are you doing to that poor boy?" Their heads snapped  
in unison toward the tower of exasperated fury, Akane's older sister.  
Ryoga had never seen her in such a state, long brown hair sprouting  
untidily from her pony tail, apron stained, eyes so red and tired. Akane  
jumped back, slamming herself into the misplaced desk. A small  
wail escaped from her mouth as she tried to shield her precious count  
of days from Kasumi. Kasumi charged forward and seized Akane's wrist.

"What is this? Just what exactly is this?" Kasumi glared back and forth  
from the wall to the face of her shrinking sister. Ryoga stood up, but  
the girls were oblivious to him. He clenched his fists and desperately  
wished for a power to somehow make everything all right. Something  
he could say, something he could do to make it all better.

"It's her numbers." The voice was his, but he really couldn't remember  
saying the words. Kasumi glanced over her shoulder at him. 

"Her what?" She shook her head as if to clear it, Akane's wrist still  
firmly in her hand. "Ryoga, I think it's time for you to go home now."  
Ryoga looked into her face, sheer terror drying his mouth. The gate.  
How could anyone be so cruel as to resign him back to the gate? He  
felt tears of frustration forming in his eyes. A sudden movement  
aborted their progress. Akane yanked her wrist free, having caught  
sight of the tray with the needle held firmly in Kasumi's other hand.

"Kasumi-oneechan, I don't want it! Please don't make me!" Akane's face  
was pale beyond her seclusion. She pressed her back against the wall,  
fingers furiously tracing her only hope, those thin lines in the plaster.  
Ryoga thought she looked like a blind woman desperately searching for  
an answer in braille. 

"Akane, just calm down, it's bedtime. It will all be better in the  
morning." Kasumi's kind words belied the tension in her shoulders and  
face. Akane slid down the wall to sit in a ball on the floor.

"Please, no. I'm okay, Oneechan. I really am. I won't cause any more   
problems." Her words were fast and frantic, searching her sister's face  
for any sign of relenting. Kasumi continued to advance on her, needle  
now in hand. Akane chanced a pleading look at Ryoga, who was frozen  
to his spot in sad horror.

"This is for your own good, Akane. You'll feel much better afterwards."   
Kasumi closed the distance, and Ryoga thought he could see a gleaming  
drop of liquid on the tip of the needle. Akane suddenly shrieked and  
dove between Kasumi's legs, knocking her down in the process. Kasumi  
fell badly, wrenching one of her ankles. Akane got up to run and plowed  
into Ryoga. His arms automatically wrapped around her and he could  
feel her shaking against him. A dam burst and she was crying, crying  
violently, so much so that Ryoga was afraid she'd rip herself apart  
from the sobs wracking her body. He held her close, as close as the  
day on the mountain when he was sure he'd die of heartbreak. He had  
tried his hardest to keep what he thought was her corpse safe, but  
the rocks had come down and new bruises and weals appeared on her  
pale skin. More blood and more horror; he had blacked out himself during  
the final barrage of the guts of the mountain. When he woke up he found  
himself crouched over her, buried in rubble, the few pinpoints of light  
illuminating her perfect face. At that moment, and now with her in his  
arms once again, he felt that maybe it would have been better to stay  
buried.

Buried. After all, that's what Ranma wanted, wasn't it? Only to be   
buried with his slain love. I couldn't even give him that, Ryoga   
thought. Instead, here we are. The room suddenly rose around him in high  
relief. The slightly rumpled bed, the desk shoved aside, scratches on the  
wall, last rays of a bleak afternoon gone now, replaced with a murky  
winter night, too cloudy to even see the stars. Kasumi rubbing her ankle  
with one hand, holding the needle determinedly in the other, her fall not  
breaking her desire for normlacy. Akane against his chest murmuring a  
litany of denials. Yes, better left buried.

"Please don't let her." His sense of surreality was replaced by her big  
brown eyes, begging him to comply. "I want to remember. Please help  
me remember." He felt the dirt and rocks above him; would he bother  
digging them out this time? Ryoga nodded. Akane's eyes filled with   
gratitude and the beginnings of one of her radiant smiles before she  
stiffened, her eyes rolled back in her head and she collapsed into him.  
Kasumi pulled out the needle and gave him a weak smile.

"Thanks for holding her still for me." His mind reeled with shock and  
fury and denial. "Now would you help me put her to bed?" He could   
only numbly comply. Kasumi was out the door with her tray and needle  
before he could react. His breath started coming in gasps. Akane's  
face was still and white, tucked snugly into bed. A sudden pain stabbed  
him in the gut and he doubled over, crouching next to her bed. Tears  
that had threatened for so long finally spilled over his cheeks and   
he shuddered with sobs. He had tried so hard. He really wanted to help.  
But they were buried.

+++

Tray in the cupboard, needle in the special container Dr. Tofu so kindly  
provided. Fix a midnight snack for Nabiki's return, check the amount  
of rice for tomorrow's meal. Apron off and folded to go in the drawer,  
but then she stopped.

Kasumi stopped. Her hand was still on the apron. She smoothed the   
front, feeling for the familiar crackle. There it was. She reached into  
the pocket, then drew her hand out again. She closed her eyes then  
forced her hand in and grabbed the scrap of paper. It was still the same.  
Same name, same number. Still there. She traced the figures with  
her eyes. And again. And again. And again, but this time they were   
blurry. She brought it closer to her face, trying to decipher them, but  
a fat drop fell onto the paper. Her arm fell limply to her side.

Kasumi stood alone in her dark kitchen.


	2. Chapter 2

Cold. 

Ryoga was brutally ripped from sleep.

Cold and wet.

A squeal of dismay, then he was launched out the window and into  
a neighbor's yard. He stood up and shook himself. Then his clothes and  
pack landed on top of him. Another squeal, of indignation this time, and  
he glared back up at Akane's window just as it slid shut.

+++  
Sumi no e no  
Kishi ni yoru nami  
Yoru sae ya  
Yume no kayoi ji  
Hito me yoku ran

 

Akane stretched and yawned. The sun slanted through her window  
and she could see golden dust motes drifting lazily in her still room.   
She rubbed her eyes then bounced out of bed. For a moment she glanced at  
her desk; was she forgetting something? She shrugged and slid on her  
happi coat. Even though the sun was shining, it was still a little  
chilly.

Her family was sitting around the breakfast table when she bounded  
up to wrap her arms around Soun's neck and gave him a small peck on the  
cheek.

"Feeling better, Akane-chan?" She looked up into her sister's  
bloodshot eyes. 

"Of course, Kasumi-oneechan! Why shouldn't I be?" She gave her  
father one last squeeze then sat down at the table. It was okaiyu, and one  
of Akane's favorite dishes. Now if she could only make it herself. The  
thought made her giggle, and she started eating.

"What's so funny, Akane?" Her father peered over his newspaper at  
her. 

"I can't cook," she exclaimed joyfully and raised her chopsticks  
as if to salute the fact.

Her eldest sister took a sip of tea. Her voice barely a  
murmur: "What ever makes you think that?"

"I can't cook, I can't swim, I can't sew, I'm nothing but an  
uncute tomboy!" She laughed again, then resumed eating.

Nabiki's bowl came down with a clank. "I have to go." She was up  
and out of the room before any of them could say a word. Akane ruefully  
waved after her.

"Nabiki is always so busy; do you think she has a  
boyfriend?" Akane gleefully peered into the countenances of her father and  
sister. Kasumi's eyes were cast down into her bowl and Soun's newspaper  
was raised over his face. The joy slowly went out of Akane's face  
and she finished her meal in silence.

+++

"Moshi moshi. Tendo residence."

"Kasumi, it's Dr. Tofu."

"Hello, Doctor."

"Is something wrong, Kasumi? You sound strained."

"Last night was particularly hard, Doctor. Akane didn't get her  
full dose of medicine last night."

"Ah, I'm very sorry. That's actually what I was calling  
about. When can I see you again? T-to give you more medicine, of course. I  
mean, by my measure, you're almost out."

"That is true. I'm not sure..."

"Can we m-meet for lunch?"

"I don't know... Father's out today, I don't have anyone..."

"Bring her."

"Are you sure?"

"She could probably use the fresh air. Besides, I haven't  
examined her in a while; it would be good to see how she's doing."

"..."

"Kasumi? You could probably stand to get out of the house yourself."

"You're probably right, Doctor."

"And it would only be for a little while...what? You'll go?"

"Yes, Doctor."

"G-great! I mean, good. At the teriyaki place? In two hours?"

"Yes."

"And Kasumi? C-call me Ono-san, would you? Or Tofu?"

"No, Doctor."

"I see. I'm sorry."

"Yes, Doctor. I'll see you soon."

"Soon."

+++

Tofu set the phone down in its cradle. It was a victory, of  
sorts. He ran his fingers down the ribcage of his display skeleton. The   
dry bones were slightly rough to the touch, and he noticed a hairline   
crack in one of them. Immediately he went to his cabinet for the powder he  
used to repair the skeleton from time to time. He poured a small amount  
into a bowl and splashed water onto it. Using a tongue depressor, he mixed  
it into a watery paste. A small amount went over the crack, seeping into  
the darkened area. He covered the front and back, then washed the rest of  
the mixture down the drain. Too bad it wasn't as easy to fix real  
people. A wry smile touched his lips and he ran his fingers over the  
ridges of Betty's eyesockets. He carefully examined the skeleton for other  
blemishes.

There were a few repaired breaks on the left fibia, one on the  
clavicle, a small place on the back of the skull. Akane had done a number  
on his office that day. It was actually the second time she had been in  
that day. The first had been when Ryoga carried her in.

The fanged boy had placed her gently on his examination  
table. She had regained consciousness only once since China, and only to  
ask about Ranma. She was severely dehydrated and suffered from many deep  
bruises and lacerations. When Ryoga told him about her various adventures,  
it was amazed him that she wasn't paralyzed or dead. But then again, the  
boy thought she was until she actually opened her eyes on the boat  
back. Tofu patched her up and sent her home with him for rest. A  
pinched-face Nabiki guided him both ways, but declined to speak a  
word. Ryoga, on the other hand, was desperate to speak to someone,  
apologizing to anyone that would listen. He had many bruises himself, and  
even what looked to be a broken nose, but he didn't want treatment. 

He ran his fingers over the skeleton's nose, or where the nose  
should be. No, it had all been about Akane. Her father brought her in the  
second time. She was wild-eyed and covered in blood. Soun was carrying  
her in an awkward position, and Tofu realized that it was to restrain  
her. It took only seconds to administer a sedative and determine that the  
blood was all hers. Her pajama top was in shreds and almost soaked  
through. He removed what little was left and found deep gouges along her  
chest, coming together in the center. A small choking noise reminded him  
of Soun's presence. The tall man was pale and breathing heavily. 

"It would probably be better to wait in the next room, Tendo-san."

The words didn't seem to register, and Tofu could see the whites  
of his eyes. He couldn't pull his gaze from his daughter's ruined   
chest. Words finally came: "Her heart. She didn't want her heart." Tears  
trickled down his cheeks. Tofu looked down at his own hands, already  
covered in Akane's blood.

Snap.

It was bone dust covering his hands, not blood. Betty's left  
humerus was shattered. He quickly straightened and tried to dust off his  
hands, but they were sticky with sweat and the dust wouldn't budge.  
He laid the remains of the arm on his table and shakily reached for  
the cabinet that held his powder. He'd quickly repair the damage, then  
make more medicine for Akane before meeting the sisters at noon.

More glue. More putting people back together.

+++

The storm of the night before had passed and the sky was a  
bright, blazing blue. The low-hanging frenzy of power and telephone wires   
segmented the blue, lending an abstract touch that contrasted with the old  
feel of the neighborhood in an odd, yet pleasing way. It was one of the  
few places left that had a majority of pre-war houses rather than the ugly  
new concrete mode of construction. Progress had brought their destruction  
more readily than the veil of fire rained down by warplanes. Prayer papers  
rustled in the boughs of the budding plum trees in the yard surrounding a  
small shrine. Few visitors graced the shrine these days, and the gong  
stood silent for months at a time. There was an old man raking the rocks,  
robes covered by a thick down coat to keep the chill off. Akane waved to  
him as the sisters walked by, and he smiled and waved back. His face  
darkened after they had passed and he slouched down, leaning on his rake  
for support. Sometimes prayer didn't seem like it was enough. He shook his  
head and added another ridge to his wave pattern in the rocks. The gong  
chimed quietly. He turned toward the noise, but the shrine was empty. The  
wind, he thought.

Kasumi noticed none of this. Walking purposefully toward their  
destination, she was intent upon getting the chore done, then returning   
home as soon as possible. She hated the feel of neighbors' eyes drilling   
into them, then looking away when they saw her looking back. Poor Akane,  
poor Kasumi, poor Tendo. Her jaw tightened and she walked a step faster.

Akane was trying to keep up with her sister, but the cracks in the   
sidewalk seemed so huge and she was carefully stepping over each one. Her  
jacket wasn't helping at all either; it was too big and it felt so  
heavy. She frowned and fretted with the collar. Was this even her coat? It  
seemed impossibly big. 

Kasumi heard a small screech and whirled around to face her  
sister. Akane was sitting on the ground, holding one knee and whimpering.  
I shouldn't have dressed her in that skirt, she thought. It was one of  
the few things that fit decently and Kasumi had even thought she looked  
good today, if one didn't look too closely at the dark hollows beneath her  
eyes.

She extended her hand to her fallen sister. "What happened?"

"The cracks! I wasn't looking and one got me!" Akane glared  
accusingly at the sidewalk in front of her. She put her hand in her  
sister's and let herself be pulled up. Kasumi knelt to examine Akane's  
scraped knee. Her stomach felt slightly queasy at the sight of blood.

"It doesn't look too bad. We'll have the Doctor look at it when we  
have lunch."

"Okay, Kasumi-oneechan." She noticed that she was leaving small drops  
of blood behind her, like a trail. Perhaps that's all the cracks wanted,  
she thought. She could understand being hungry. Kasumi halted suddenly.   
Akane tugged on her sister's hand. "C'mon, we're almost there."

Kasumi felt the chill hand of dread grip the back of her neck. She was  
so used to taking the old routes through the city, she didn't think ahead  
of time. Her sister tugged at her hand again and she forced herself to  
keep going. The darkened windows of Ucchan's scowled out from beneath  
their beetling brow of awning. She purposefully looked away from them and  
studied her sister. Akane smiled blithely back, intent upon lunch. Only  
when they were past the vacant restaurant did Kasumi relax. They would  
take a different route home, just to be sure, she thought.

The weathered sign squeaked and the awning rustled as a small  
breeze whirled through, seeming to bid farewell to an old friend.

+++

"And one beef teriyaki for the miss." Akane happily accepted the  
steaming bowl from the counter cook and skipped over to where Kasumi and  
Tofu were sitting in a cramped corner. It was a new restaurant in town and   
Kasumi was thankful for the unfamiliar faces. She ate from her bowl and  
avoided the doctor's eyes. 

"I heard you had an accident on the way here, Akane." She looked up  
from her food and wordlessly showed him her knee. "Does it hurt?" She  
shook her head and looked away. He turned to Kasumi. "Put some antiseptic  
on it when you get home and it should be fine."

"Thank you, Doctor." She smiled at him without thinking and his  
face lit up. Kasumi flushed and looked at her sister. Akane was shifting  
nervously in her seat. "Bathroom, Akane-chan?" Akane nodded. "I think it's  
in the back." 

"Thanks, Oneechan." She smiled gratefully at her older sister, then  
glanced nervously at Tofu who was looking at her speculatively. She  
hurried away.

"I'm sorry, Doctor, I don't know why she's so nervous around  
you. She was so fond of you before." 

"Before Ranma, you mean." He smiled, but it didn't reach his eyes.

"Please, Doctor, don't mention his name." Her full attention was on  
him now, food forgotten.

"Why, Kasumi? Don't you think it's about time that we face  
it? She--you can't live like this forever. You look exhausted." He only  
hoped that he would have the same strength after the crisis, after  
everything was better. It would kill him to go back into his dithering  
doctor routine once his task was done.

"I can't even begin to tell you." Kasumi's face suddenly looked  
old beyond her years. "Last night Ryoga stopped by."

"It might be good for her to have visitors, you know."

"She thought he was P-chan."

"Oh." Ryoga's condition had been made known to him early on by an  
angry Ranma, venting to him while getting his ankle wrapped. 

"Then she got hysterical about her medicine. And she ruined the  
plaster behind her desk, with all sorts of lines. She called them 'her  
numbers.'" Kasumi was becoming distraught, the memory of the night  
overwhelming her. 

"There is a way out." Tofu found himself touching her hand  
lightly. "Do you still have the number?"

She desperately wanted to deny it, but found herself nodding.

"They will help her get better, Kasumi. She can't stay on the  
drugs forever. She's already been on them too long; I'd get my license  
taken away if anyone found out about this." He searched her eyes for  
affirmation.

"Please, Doctor. Tofu-san. Please just give me a little while  
longer to decide." She was wavering, but not yet ready to forsake her  
mother's honor. Or her own. He sighed and pulled out a bottle.

"This is enough for another two weeks. You must decide,  
Kasumi. This isn't good for either of you." He reluctantly gave her the  
bottle, which she immediately stowed in her purse.

"Thank you so much, Tofu-san." He found himself weakening under  
her gaze and looked away...at Akane's cold bowl of teriyaki. Kasumi  
followed his eyes and stiffened. A sick feeling rolled her lunch around  
her stomach.

"Akane." They both stood up immediately and rushed toward the back.

+++

Akane sighed and pushed open the grimy red door to the  
bathroom. It was a relief to be away from the man with the glasses. He  
made her uneasy for some reason. The bathroom floor was badly tiled, with  
the grouting rotting away and individual tiles missing in spots. Akane  
ignored the filthy toilet and washed her hands in the sink. Slowly   
scrubbing imaginary dirt away, she blankly gazed at the mirror. 

Surprise crossed her features; something was attached to the   
mirror. She carefully touched the dry thing, realizing it was a flower  
taped to the mirror. Standing on her tip-toes, she peeled the tape off  
and it tumbled into her hands, dry petals rasping against her  
fingers. She raised it absently to her nose, but all she could smell was  
dust. A wind rustled her hair and blew the flower out of her  
hand. Suddenly she felt cold, like ice. Like ice skating. Her hand,  
already descending to pluck the flower from the dirty tiles, froze. Ice  
skating. He had been so nice.

A roaring filled her ears and she clapped her hands over them,   
trying to shut it out, dirt and rocks were coming down all around her  
and there wasn't anything she could do to help. Ice skating. Something.  
It was there, but the chaos wouldn't let her get to it. "Please," she   
whispered, and her voice screamed in her ears. Desperate to withstand  
the storm, she fell to her knees. A sharp pain. Pain and blood. The sound  
stopped and the quiet loomed large in its absence. 

A small pool of blood was forming around her re-opened knee  
wound. It flowed like a river in the cracked tile, a small rivulet  
meeting up with the husk of the flower and dying it pink. It was  
pretty. Akane reached to pick it up and something caught her eye. A dead  
bird was lying huddled and broken under the sink. Its beak was slightly  
open and waxy, and the black wings were twisted at the wrong angles.  
Akane took in a sharp gasp of breath, scooped the flower up and backed   
away from the dead thing. It had been looking at her. A breeze ruffled her  
hair again and she looked for the source. It was the kind of window that  
was slanted in such a way that birds could get in, but not out. 

Frowning, she moved to open the window. Before her hand could  
reach the latch, she saw a blur outside. Clutching the flower to her  
chest, she forced the window open, ignoring the slight pain and splinters.  
Pausing only a second, she vaulted out the window and landed with a slight  
oomph outside. Another blur, from the other side of the street. Cars and  
trucks obscured her vision for a moment, then traffic cleared  
again. Satisfied that no more birds would get trapped in the filthy room,  
she started across the street.

+++

The same old fear gripped Kasumi's heart. After feeling it so  
many times, it should have dimmed, faded at least a little bit. But it was  
still as bright and wicked as the day Akane came back from Jusendo.  
Kasumi felt her jaw clench as she swung open the door, just a step   
in front of Tofu. Blood. And she was seeing the room again, sheets  
torn, mirror cracked, but only her sister was there, bloody, shredded  
nightgown, all the stitches Dr. Tofu had done ripped open, and she  
could only think, why? Why had she done this to herself? Then it  
was all lost in a haze, rushing to get her father, asking where is  
he? Where is..

"Kasumi?" Her vision cleared and she was only looking into a  
bathroom. There was a small amount of blood on the tiles.

"Oh god, Akane!" She rushed in, flats clacking against the  
tiles. The stalls were empty, and the window was gaping wide, torn almost  
off its hinges. A cold breath of wind sighed into her face. The street  
was crowded outside the window, traffic intense as people hurried  
back to their jobs after lunch. A small break opened and Kasumi caught a  
glimpse of Akane's yellow coat. Horns blared and the screeching of brakes  
was punctuated by a collective gasp from the passers-by.

"NO! AKANE!" Kasumi wrenched herself away from the window and  
through the swinging door, Tofu close behind her. 

+++

"Did you see that?"  
"I can't believe it!"  
"What happened?"  
"A truck, and that girl..."

Kasumi pushed through the tight crowd of people, almost ripping  
them aside in her rush to get to her sister. Didn't they understand? Why  
couldn't they move? Tears of fear and frustration spilled down her  
cheeks. She finally pushed past the final line and stopped short. A  
twisted ruin of a truck loomed behind Akane, its mishandled metal frame  
forming peaks and spirals around her. Glass lay shattered on the ground  
in a perfect arc around where the girl stood. Kasumi thought she  
could see the yellow reflections of Akane's coat in the shards. 

Akane walked toward her sister with a sunny smile. Kasumi felt  
a strange buzzing in her head, and noted that the truck was for "Happy  
Sunday Treat," a candy that was advertised with a big orange octopus.  
Someone whistled behind her and she caught another fragment of speech:  
"She was just standing there, and the truck smashed itself!"

"Look, isn't it pretty?" A dried flower tinted pink with blood  
loomed large in Kasumi's face and she fainted into Tofu's arms.

+++

"Is she okay?"

"Yes, Akane, give her room to breathe."

"Why can't we go home?"

"I want to make sure she's all right."

"You just said she was okay!"

"Akane, please!"

"Akane..." Kasumi could see their heads turn towards her through  
her eyelashes. "Akane, please wait in the other room for Dr. Tofu to  
finish."

"But, Oneechan..." The flower was still in Akane's hands. Kasumi  
closed her eyes again.

"Please wait in the other room." She heard a sigh and a door open  
and close. Only then did she dare open her eyes again.

"Kasumi, what happened? How do you feel?" Dr Tofu came into  
focus, worried eyes sending a twinge of guilt to her heart. He had been  
so good, and her family was so troublesome.

"I'm fine, Doctor. But...did you happen to see the flower Akane was  
holding?" 

"Yes, it was just some dried flower."

"No." How could she tell him about the box under her bed? Was she  
even sure it was the same flower? An image of the flower in Akane's hair,  
worn while skating for ownership of her pet pig, came to Kasumi's mind. It  
was the same. The box had to have been found. But when did Akane have  
time? The door to her room was always locked. It all was too  
much. Kasumi closed her eyes again. 

"Kasumi? What do you mean?"

"It's nothing, Doctor. I should be getting home." She rose from  
the table she had been placed on, slightly unsteady. Two hands came from  
behind her to rest on her shoulders. Kasumi froze. The two hands slipped  
silently away.

"There's something I should tell you." The doctor's voice held  
only a hint of sorrow from her rejection. "Akane didn't smash that  
truck."

Kasumi turned around, astonished. "But couldn't she...?" She had  
seen many feats she thought impossible, so this didn't seem so out of the  
ordinary.

"She might have been able to, but there were no signs of trauma   
on her arms or legs. Kasumi, there weren't even glass shards on  
her. She was totally untouched."

Kasumi remembered the perfect arc of glass radiating about a  
meter from where Akane stood. "But who, then?"

"Nobody could say."

"What about the driver of the truck?"

"He was fine, only a few scratches." Kasumi couldn't quite put  
her mind around it all. What had happened? The flower and the truck...

"Could Ryoga have done it?" Kasumi's voice held more hope than  
Doctor Tofu could muster for himself.

"Possibly. And I suppose he could have wandered off later."

"Yes, that must have been it." A slight smile crept to Kasumi's   
face. "Silly Ryoga, always wandering off." 

Tofu stared absentmindedly at the back of her head. Did she  
really think that? It was hard to tell exactly what Kasumi was thinking   
these days. No witnesses had said anything about a bandanna-clad   
fanged boy. Just a blur, then a crash, then the smile of the girl in   
the yellow coat. They all agreed that she hadn't moved a muscle, but they  
couldn't say exactly what happened.

Kasumi gathered her purse up and was almost to the door before  
Tofu could shake off his thoughts. "Good-bye, Dr. Tofu." And she was gone.

"Tofu-san," he whispered to the door.

+++

 

Kaze o itami  
Iwa utsu nami no  
Onore nomi  
Kudakete mono o  
Omou koro kana

A shrill cry pierced the night air. For an instant the world was  
quiet. A stray wind rustled the gingko trees and Mu Si drew his wrap close  
around his shoulders. The stars were bright explosions of lights, taking  
on their own wintry chill. He could feel the heat of the hut bleeding   
around the door cracks, hot and wet enough to create a mist that beaded  
and cooled on the back of his head. His glasses were still clear enough to  
search out any disturbance in the forest. The baby's cries were clear and  
steady, a relief. He allowed himself to blink. 

The door eased open and a figure stepped out beside him.

"You didn't need to wait." It was Shan Pu.

"I wanted to." Mu Si didn't bother to look away from the  
stars. "Was it healthy?"

"He's fine." Her voice was seeped with disappointment. 

"Ah." Just a worthless boy, he thought.

Shan Pu wiped the sweat from her face and hands with a spare  
birthing rag. The hut had been kept hot with a small furnace used to boil  
the traditional tea given to the baby and mother to bond them forever. In  
this case it was useless, as the baby was a boy and not given the tea.  
He would be raised communally, without the privilege of a mother. Shan Pu  
smiled. She had been robbed of the the privilige of a mother early; was  
she really that much better than the village boys? 

"It's late." He was right. The birth had taken a long time, and  
she was exhausted. This was one of the governing functions pushed upon her by   
Ke Lun, much to her own chagrin. Tribal law insisted that a leader be  
present at all births, else they may be considered outlawed and the child  
may be ignored. Shan Pu shook her head. It was silly, really. The sweet  
stench of fresh blood and sweat still hung about her nostrils. The  
mother's face, twisted first by pain then disappointment, a phantom  
lurking behind her eyes. To think that she had once wanted a child. A  
chill ran through her and she ran a palm over her own stomach, reassured  
by its flatness.

"Are you okay?" She looked into the sheen of Mu Si's glasses.

"Shampoo fine!" She covered her mouth with her hand and looked  
away, stricken by her own slip.

"Shan Pu? Why?" Shan Pu threw the birthing rag on the ground and   
walked away from the hut. Why had she spoken in Japanese? She hadn't  
bothered going back after Jusendo. What was there for her, anyway? She  
angrily pushed some stray bamboo shoots out of the path. The mountain  
had come down. She had seen it with her own eyes, though still clouded by  
the egg spell. A beam of searing blue heat, then boulders and tree shards   
crashing around her. Mu Si pulling her away, Ranma's cry still rendering  
her immobile. Akane. Always Akane.

The day after had been murky yellow with a pall of dust hanging in the  
air. Shan Pu shifted boulder after boulder, searching first with hope,  
then with duty, then with despair. Nothing. Nothing at all. A low murmur  
told her she was approaching the village. And now she was back here. A dog  
raised its head to look at her, then went back to sleep. The huts were in  
disrepair, more than a few just empty shells. The tribe was leaking away,  
like a blood out of a dying vein. There weren't enough fighters to have  
a tournament this year. She once thought that if Ranma had stayed he  
would have helped her lead the tribe to glory. But now she had her doubts.

And the slow trickle continued. More and more people were seeking  
out the city, away from the strong and strict traditions, where they could  
make money and go shopping and not have to kill or farm to cook. Ling Ling  
had sent her a card with a small photograph attached. Shan Pu could hardly  
recognize her, streaks dyed into her hair, platform shoes and glitter  
smeared on her face. But she also felt a twinge of jealousy. She looked  
down at her hands. The birthing blood was gone, but the hard calluses  
remained. 

What had been the great glory that she was supposed to lead the  
tribe to, anyway? A small curl of smoke rose out of the hole in the  
chieftain's house, where she wasstaying. Ke Lun accompanied her, trained  
her. But for what? She worked the calluses in her hands furiously. This  
was familiar. Suddenly, Shan Pu was eight. She stood in front of the  
warriors of the village, and they were so tall and strong. Some were  
impossibly big and coarse, their strength in bearing providing the  
backbone and pride of the village. Her mother had been  
beautiful. Beautiful but weak. A healer, unable to protect herself, to  
sense the tiger, forced from its usual hunting grounds by the harsh  
winter. It hadn't been hard to kill the starving beast, but she hadn't  
been fast enough. So she was standing in front of the warriors, clutching  
the gift of the tiger's teeth so tightly in one hand that they pierced  
her skin and dripped blood to the ground. Shan Pu had killed the tiger,  
and they were proud. Their pride overshadowed her mother's death. They  
had draped the raw tiger skin about her shoulders and given her the  
teeth. The teeth that tore her mother's throat. Shan Pu, eight years old,  
with a cape of bloody tiger fur, trying desperately not to cry in front of  
the warriors. She would not show weakness and soil her mother's   
memory. The drip of blood coming from her hand became a slow dribble.

At that moment, an Amazon princess was born.

So proud and beautiful, they told her. Surely she'd grow up to be  
a great leader. She stood alone in the center of the village. What could  
she do to save her village from modern times? And did she even want  
to? Shan Pu shot one last disgusted look at her hands. Ling Ling's nails  
were perfect in the picture. 

Mu Si watched over Shan Pu's silent moon-framed silhouette. A  
cold resignation settled over his eyes, shading and shaping her  
figure. She was staring at her hands. So much fire had left the girl,  
stolen by Jusendo's debacle. He had helped her through those hard days and  
nights, digging through the rubble, searching for any sign of  
anything. Anything at all. He watched her face become a mask of  
neutrality. She hadn't even cried when he finally convinced her to leave  
the mountain and come back to the village. 

A sudden shiver shook her frame. Shan Pu looked up into the deep  
black sky. The stars were never this bright in the city. But the city  
could better drive away the cold. She finally gave up and shuffled  
inside; there was much to do in the morning. 

A pair of eyes, just visible behind thick glasses, watched her  
door for almost an hour, before leaving his own puzzles for another day.

+++

A hand reached through the mist and slashed a streak through the  
moisture on the mirror. The drippy-clear surface revealed an eye, part of  
a nose, a fragment of mouth. Bits and pieces of a person. But what was  
really there? What was the whole that is the sum of the parts? A closer  
inspection showed the redness around the eyes, small lines stretching  
across the forehead.

Who was she really? The dutiful eldest daughter of a samurai clan  
wary of the modern age. The one to always count on. The keeper of her  
sister. Another pass of her hand swiped a streak bisecting the  
first. Kasumi peered into the X. She was all of these things, but did she  
really want to be? A drippy smile appeared in the reflection. All of  
these questions, like she had a choice. It was never an issue before  
Jusendo. That time was just planning and waiting and going along for the  
ride while she could. Happy insanity had reigned, each player almost  
unwilling to let it end. Everyone knew that when it did, the good guys  
would win and everyone would be happy, right? 

But the end had come and instead of her graceful ascent into a  
world all her own, she was left to pick up the pieces. The Saotomes,  
suddenly hollow. Her father, withdrawn even farther into his  
melancholy. All the friends and fiancees, gone almost as though they never  
were there. Nabiki, trying desperately to follow them out of  
Nerima. Akane. Several fragments of memory and feeling were evoked just by  
mention of the name. Akane. A startling mix of intensity, a person that  
could love and hate and forgive in one breath. Ranma never had a  
chance. But instead of a moth to a flame, it was more akin to a flame with  
a flame. Each made the other burn higher, and then the moths came,  
swirling and tormenting until it all seemed to take on its own life, an  
insane dance, too exciting to end. But it had. It had been too much. The  
flames had devoured themselves, leaving Ranma...gone and Akane who might  
be better off that way. Poor Akane. That's what everyone said, poor Akane.  
But she just couldn't put any feeling into it. 

A cool draft crept under the door and chilled her bare toes. She  
turned from the crossed-out reflection and reached for her towel. Those  
thoughts, like everything else, would have to wait. But for how long? She  
wrapped one towel around her head, dabbing the moisture off her face. How  
long until she had her own life and loves? A shaky hand wrapped another  
towel around her body. Poor Akane? What about poor Kasumi? The stirring of  
a deep resentment was quickly quelled. It was her sister. She must carry  
on. 

Akane was probably asleep by now, and needed her medicine. The  
medicine sometimes seemed to be the only thing holding the house  
together. Without it, Akane would have to be sent to an institution and  
Kasumi would be free. But at what cost? Mother's face surfaced, with a  
look of resentment and disapproval tainting her features. A part of her  
rebelled at that though, Mother and her Japanese mores weren't taking  
care of Akane, she was. Why did she have to be so tired and on guard all  
the time? Father and Nabiki weren't helping, it was an every day struggle  
and Kasumi felt she was losing. She felt stretched so thin, there wasn't  
even enough Kasumi left to be called Kasumi any more. Maybe they would  
have all been better off following Ranma.

The door to the furo slid shut, and only the swirl of the mist  
that was her namesake was left behind.

+++

"And the only way to find you is to close my eyes."

 

The silence in Akane's room was only broken by her deep   
breathing. A faint glow of moonlight touched her peaceful features,  
highlighting her lashes, her blue-black hair. The only comparable thing of  
beauty in the room was the flower on her desk. It had been dried well and  
kept its shape. The faint stains, only now turning brown, enhanced its  
mystery. 

Footsteps and a sliver of light under the door broke the perfect  
scene, and a sound, no louder than a sigh, escaped into the night.

Kasumi inched the door open, relieved when the hall light spilled  
over Akane's sleeping face. She stepped into the room, holding her  
tray. The offending flower was on Akane's desk and she snatched it up,  
shoving it into a pocket in her apron. She would throw the thing into the  
trash, she resolved. Along with the rest of the box, once she found where  
it had gone. Nabiki must have done something with it, always snooping  
where she didn't belong.

She carefully slid the covers down, revealing Akane's bruised  
forearm. With practiced ease, she cleared the needle of air and pierced  
her sister's skin. It was easy. Just more medicine and they'd live through  
another day, undisturbed by past events. A vague frown crossed Kasumi's  
features. Though the days hadn't been as peaceful lately. It would be  
equally easy to give Akane a little too much, or to forget to clear the  
air bubble. Then she would be free as she had never been before. Akane  
stirred slightly and Kasumi quickly withdrew the empty syringe.

The needle, check. The tray, check. A rustle told her the flower  
was still in her pocket, check. The other thoughts could be saved for  
another time. Father still needed his bath drawn.

The door closed with a quiet click but the light in the hall was  
enough to illuminate the now restless sleep of Akane. She rolled to her  
side and curled up in a ball, shaking body reacting to the sudden  
rush. The action was enough to reveal a small and slightly crumpled object  
in her hand, until then hidden. It was a photograph, a bunch of smiling  
teenagers on some beach. Two figures stood out, seemed distant from the  
rest of the crowd. The covers were drawn up and tucked around the shaking  
girl, hiding the photograph from view.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 1) Fujiwara no Toshiyuki
> 
> The waves are gathered  
>  On the shore of Sumi Bay,  
>  And in the gathered night,  
>  When in dreams I go to you,  
>  I hide from people's eyes.
> 
>  
> 
> 2) Minamoto no Shigeyuki
> 
> Like a driven wave,  
>  Dashed by fierce winds on a rock,  
>  So am I: alone  
>  And crushed upon the shore,  
>  Remembering what has been.
> 
> 3) Tom Waits, Blind Love


	3. Chapter 3

"If you get there before I do  
Tell my friends I'm coming too"  
-His Name is Alive

A sparrow alit on Akane's bare outstretched finger. He cocked his  
head at her and she started to giggle. Startled, the sparrow took  
flight, landing a few feet away from her on the snow. The top had  
frozen overnight, leaving a frigid crust behind. Immediately contrite,  
Akane held out her finger again. The sparrow would have none of it,  
though, and pecked at a half-frozen mulberry still stuck to a twig.  
Winter had come with an unrivaled ferocity this year and was lingering  
far past its welcome.

"But isn't it beautiful?" The sun was glistening off the icy crust and  
it gave the air an almost crystalline quality. Not waiting for an answer,  
she went on. "I almost don't mind the cold." Giving up on the sparrow,  
she tugged her mitten back on and broke an icicle from a stone pagoda.  
She brought it up to her lips and flicked her tongue along an edge. The  
garden outside the Tendo house was lush in the summertime, the envy  
of most of the homes in the neighborhood, but in the winter there was  
a serene, austere quality to it that Akane enjoyed.

"I'd imagine it was an ice fairy kingdom." A slight wind whirled through  
the yard, whisking a flurry of snow around her feet. "And that I was  
the princess." She stopped to examine a twig delicately encased in ice.  
"But spring would come and it would all melt away." Her breath on the  
twig caused several large water droplets to form and fall. Instead of  
making a hole in the snow, they pooled on top of the thin crust. Akane  
stirred these with her icicle, ignoring the slow seepage of cold onto  
her hand.

Finally, she plunged the icicle into the middle of the little  
puddle. It looked funny, solitary. Her breath formed a cloud around  
her head and she felt like she was looking down on it from a dizzying  
height. Suddenly frightened, she thrust her hand into her pocket,  
searching for a familiar crinkle. The photograph was slightly worn,  
but the colors were still sunny and vibrant. She smiled at it and put  
her hand back into her pocket. Something else was in there, rasping  
and pulling at her mitten. It was dry and brittle, a sprig with wisps  
of paper attached. She brought it up and held it against the sky,  
paper rattling in the wind, but refusing to let go. The photo and the  
bamboo sprout held high, like talismans, thoughts no longer of  
prolonging winter, but of the coming spring.

"The spring will come and melt it all away." She waved the objects again  
and laughed at herself and the world.

+++

"Who is she talking to out there?" Soun had abandoned his paper and  
the (konatsu) to gaze out the misty window. Kasumi finished pouring  
the tea and set the kettle carefully on the cozy in front of her. Part  
of her, no, most of her didn't want to look out that window. Better to  
stay inside where things were still under her control. She studied the  
kettle closely.

"Come and look, Kasumi. She's holding something." Kasumi brought the  
cup of tea up to her lips.

"It looks like, like a branch and a piece of paper..." She tipped the  
cup, feeling the almost-boiling-hot water scald her lips and the tip  
of her tongue. It was something, to be able to still feel  
sensation. Her fingers caressed the relief mountain decoration on the  
cup.

"Kasumi, I think she's laughing." Kasumi wondered if she should dip her  
fingers in. That would surely create a sensation. Or what if, what if  
she turned into something if she dumped it on her head. Wouldn't that  
be something?

"What is she laughing at? Kasumi...?" Soun turned to find his eldest  
daughter with a cup of scalding tea poised over her head. Kasumi quickly  
put the cup down on the table and smiled vacantly at her father. He gave  
her an odd look then turned back to the window.

"Do you think she's okay out there?" He twisted one side of his moustache  
nervously between his fingers.

"Who honestly cares?" Kasumi felt the eyes of her father dart back to her.

"What did you say?" Voice suddenly low, incredulous.

"Nothing, Father. I just..." Kasumi couldn't help letting a giggle  
escape. "I just wonder if she wouldn't be better off out there  
sometimes."

"What are you talking about? Out in the snow?" Soun knelt next to his  
daughter, window forgotten.

"She hates us, Father. Can't you feel that?" Voice in a whisper, she lifted  
her gaze level to his.

"How can you say that? She's been nothing but sweet after, after-"

"After that first day, right Father?" Kasumi interrupted. "The day she  
told us she hated us for letting her live."

Soun took in a breath he found he couldn't exhale.

"And I was so determined. She was my little sister. She would get  
better, and smile again." She half-smiled at the thought. "But I was  
also afraid." Kasumi wiped her palms on her apron. "I'm still afraid."  
She took a sip of tea. "She and Ranma were different. Are  
different. Maybe it would have been for the best if they would have  
gone together."

"Kasumi, gone-"

"Died, father. Out in the snow, out on a mountain-top, where gods and little  
girls go to die."

A small noise behind them made them both jump. Akane stood in the doorway,  
a shoe in her hand. The other had dropped to the ground. She quickly scooped  
up the shoe and smiled her sunny smile.

"Tadaima!"

Then she was up the stairs and into her room before either could react.

"Do you think she heard us?" Soun looked guiltily after his youngest. Kasumi  
took another sip of tea.

+++

Ryoga swept the snow off the sign. The Tendo Dojo. He should go  
inside, check on things, get warm and maybe even enjoy one of Kasumi's  
dinners. It was getting dark and tonight promised another hard  
freeze. The winter had long outstayed its welcome, when would it end?  
The gate loomed before him. No answer. He lifted his hand to press  
open the gate. Could he do it? Just one more time? His arm dropped. He  
looked at the bright stars, just now peeking out of the deadly dark  
blue.

No matter. He'd survived worse nights, and would survive many more. He  
hefted his pack more securely to his shoulders and braced himself for  
the long cold stretch before dawn. That was when he heard the scream.

+++

Nabiki filled in the last circle and tallied the results. Her perfect  
mate would be outlandish, made out of money and obsessed with no one  
but her. She smiled and closed the magazine with an air of  
finality. The quizzes in the style magazines never told her anything  
she didn't already know, and that was somehow comforting to her. She  
could never resist filling them out, casting her destiny by "What Kind  
of Friend Are You?" and "Does He Like You?" Idiot things,  
really. Nabiki felt sorry for the typical Japanese girl. She was  
supposed to be subordinate and weak and dependent. She mentally  
filled in the "no" circle on all three. She'd make her own way.

Satisfied, she threw the magazine onto the floor and yanked her  
headphones off her dresser. Her finger was poised over the "play"  
button when a shriek that wasn't part of Puffy's latest hit single  
pierced her ears.

+++

Soun polished the last shogi piece. He could see his reflection in the  
black paint of the incised characters, distorted like a madman. He  
squinted his eyes and leered. Even better. He sighed and put the piece  
in the soft cloth sack with its mates. What Kasumi had said earlier  
deeply disturbed him. Soun had been furious when he learned that Ranma  
had tried to take his youngest with him. No matter that he thought  
Akane dead at the time, there was honor involved. Honor demanded her  
body brought back to him. This wasn't some Kabuki tradegy, lovers  
binding themselves together and jumping to their death into a  
lake. True dishonor would have been brought down on the house. The  
Saotomes, even devastated by grief, could bask in the great deed their  
son had achieved. The great flaw that so concerned Nodoka was easily  
resolved, in the most gallant manner possible. The story had spread  
and no matter how hollow Genma's face, his son was considered a  
throw-back to the old days, a...a...

No. This thinking wasn't right. What is being a god worth without  
love? After all, he was nothing without...her. His eyes wandered in  
the direction of the family shrine. There had been a time where he  
wished and prayed every day to follow his wife. He was weak,  
dishonoring himself and dishonoring her memory. Weak. He traced the  
lines on the shogi board with one finger, intersections filled with  
promises and life and love. Empty spaces of nothing. He put the cloth  
bag down and moved to put the board away. An awful sound jerked his  
head in the direction of the stairs. A scream.

+++

Her back was to the door. The needle was shattered and forgotten on the  
floor, killing dose wasted.

"Kasumi-oneechan."

She tried to smile, "A-akane-chan, what's wrong?"

The slight girl was in front of her, head down. Her pajamas hung loosely on her  
frame, and her hair was disheveled. She was shivering slightly, the sleeves  
around her small wrists waving back and forth in the air. Kasumi felt the  
automatic urge to comfort her, put her to bed. Comfort or kill; her choices  
were limited, as always. Her attention was brought back to the figure in  
front of her by the low murmur coming from under the dark shag of  
bangs.

"Why?"

"Why what, Akane?" Her smile was a little more in place now, she could brush  
this off, if only...

"First, first numbers. Then my flower."

Kasumi self-consciously clutched her apron pocket. She had forgotten to throw  
it away.

"My photo. My bamboo shoot. Mine." Akane raised her head, and Kasumi  
thought she saw tears. "Why do you have to keep taking him away from  
me?"

'She knows. How can she know? I was so careful and good! I made her  
take her medicine!' Kasumi's mind was rapid-firing questions and  
answers; she instinctively closed her eyes for a second, for a blink  
to clear it.

Akane's eyes were inches from her own. "Mine. All mine. Why?" Akane's  
voice was low and deadly, eyes flat. She could feel her lips opening  
and closing, the tension in her muscles making it impossible to speak.

"I...I..." Kasumi's hands felt along the door, desperate for escape.

"WHY?" Kasumi felt the floor shift beneath her, Akane's balance  
changed and she could not move, she was on the floor, the splinters of  
Akane's door piercing her back and with her last breath she  
screamed. She screamed until Akane's grip closed her throat, years of  
the girl training in the dojo, honing her strength, and Kasumi knew  
that she would die. Akane's eyes still bore into her own, unimaginable  
anguish and hatred crackling the air, beads of sweat dripping down her  
face onto Kasumi's. Her arms battered her attacker's arms and chest  
uselessly, she could feel her weakness bending to shattering under her  
sister's strength, still formidable though an invalid. Spots were  
forming and bursting in front of her eyes, she ceased struggling with  
her arms, lungs aching, trembling, desperate for air. She felt her  
eyes closing, and she wanted them to close, anything to get away from  
Akane--

\--when suddenly it stopped. Akane's hands fell loose from her  
throat. The last thing Kasumi saw before blacking out was Soun looking  
stricken, standing over them both, hands frozen into the end position  
of a lethal strike.

+++

to hope  
until  
hope creates  
from it's  
own wreck  
the thing it contemplates  
sort of  
immortal  
never say goodbye  
you are here now -"Sort Of" His Name is Alive

+++

The world slowed. Doors swung open and shouts flowed from mouths like  
sap before quickening. There were lights, sounds, then more people  
came. Ryoga huddled over Akane--Akane's body, rocking her to eternal  
sleep. Tears flashed and pooled. Nabiki, hands held to her throat  
sympathetically, giving directions and contact information to the  
ambulance drivers. Soun was an unmoveable rock in the swirling  
eddy. He saw Dr. Tofu turn from Kasumi to Akane. His hands reached  
out, to be deflected by the fanged boy. Again, then again. Then they  
were on her smooth breast, surprisingly tan against the creamy  
flesh. Kasumi was gone, to the hospital, tubes spouting from her mouth  
like icicles, breathing frost. Nabiki tugged on Soun's sleeve. Ryoga  
followed a barked directive and held Akane's body tightly. Tan hands  
savagely pressed her chest. A rib snapped. Again. Another dull  
snap. Akane spasmed in Ryoga's arms. Tofu had undone a sure death  
technique. A sealed technique. Soun turned and walked out of the  
room. The world stutter-started into motion.

Akane spasmed again.

"Ryoga, give her to me! She needs medical attention." Dr Tofu clenched  
his hands around the lost boy's shoulders.

"Akane's back. She's back. Akane's not dead. She's back." Ryoga hissed  
the mantra into the girl's black hair.

"She needs to go to the hospital. I broke her ribs reviving her. Give  
her to me!" The paramedics stepped forward, but Tofu motioned them  
back.

"She's alive." Ryoga looked up through his thick shock of hair at Tofu  
in wonderment. Tears soaked his shirt and his lip was slightly  
bloodied from biting it.

"Yes. And we'd like to keep her that way." Tofu moved a hand from  
Ryoga's shoulder to the back of his neck. Ryoga slumped to the floor,  
releasing Akane into the paramedics' waiting hands. "Poor kid. Poor  
kids." Tofu followed them out.

Akane was quickly secured to the stretcher and loaded into the  
ambulance. It wasn't clear if the restraints were to keep Akane from  
unwittingly hurting herself, or to keep her from hurting the  
paramedics.

"Oh god, oh god..." Nabiki whispered into her hands.

The wall behind her shattered, pelting her with a hail of snow and  
wood shards. She looked down at the twisted wood. The wind howled and  
raked her back.

Against her will, she turned around.

'He hasn't changed much,' was her first thought. 'He is completely  
changed,' was her second. She pointed wordlessly in the direction of  
the ambulance, which had pulled away from the curb seconds before.

Then he was gone.

Nabiki stood in the middle of the ruins of her sister's room, in the  
second story of the Tendo family home, in the middle of a suburb of  
Tokyo and cried.

+++

The paramedic loomed large above her. Objects and colors blurred and  
mixed like they were made out of honey. For a second there had been  
darkness, and an unbelievable peace. Dark and quiet, around her and  
inside of her. Then there was the pain in her side, slashing into her  
consciousness, demanding her attention. And she was brought back into  
the world again. She didn't have the wherewithal to hate Tofu. Yet.

The ambulance was loud and shaking around her. She wanted to clasp her  
hands over her ears and curl into a ball, but something held her  
wrists, ankles. The paramedic murmured something and stuck a needle  
into her arm.

No more needles. Again she found herself sinking into the murky void  
of unconsciousness. She fought it this time, and moaned.

Suddenly, a hand crashed through the ceiling of the ambulance. The  
attending paramedic recoiled and yelled at the driver. Akane saw this  
all from a diminishing consciousness, a point of light going farther  
and farther away. The hand began to peel back the roof, metal  
squealing its protest. The ambulance swerved wildly, and the hand  
retreated, then was back again. The paramedic started screaming,  
loudly enough to be heard over the siren.

The ambulance swerved hard to the right and grazed a lightpost. The  
impact jarred the whole vehicle, and Akane's stretcher tilted wildly,  
then slammed against the wall, returning her to consciousness for a  
brief and painful second. The hand was gone again, but Akane could see  
the sky through the hole it had created.

The passenger side window exploded into a glass gravel that skittered  
across the empty seat. The door started to open. The driver cursed and  
swerved again, hard to the left. He slammed his foot on the  
accelerator, peeling out the tires. The passenger side door flopped  
open, but there wasn't anyone there.

White-knuckled, the paramedic pulled the door shut. The wind from the  
shattered window fluttered the hair on Akane's unconscious form.

+++

Soun was staring at his hands. Still worthless, after all of these  
years. No matter how much training he did, he never could help those  
he loved when they needed him. He felt a shudder building in his  
chest, down deep, where the tears for his wife came from. He slammed  
his hands on the floor, and could feel the wood groan under him.

Nothing he could do, nothing he could say, nothing he could be would  
change this, nothing would improve this. He was nothing. His eyes went  
automatically to the picture of his wife, smiling behind glass. She  
was locked there, faultless, unmoving.

He needed her. He needed help. He had failed in everything that he had  
tried. Kasumi needed protecting, Nabiki needed guidance, and Akane  
needed...release. He was nothing. He reached to her. To touch her. To  
draw the strength he desperately needed.

A distant part of him felt the pain when he broke the glass in the  
frame, but touching her photograph was more important. He cradled it  
in his arms, and finally the tears came. The tears and the hatred.

Hatred for himself. His hands closed around the picture, crumpling it,  
driving the shards of glass deep under his skin.

He was worthless. He was nothing.

+++

The curtains in her room were faded and dusty. The ceiling had a spot  
on it. The chrome on the beeping machines next to her needed shining.

Her throat hurt. She realized that her name was Kasumi. Tendo  
Kasumi. Self-awareness gave her no joy. There were flowers next to  
her, signed with a card that stuck into the base. She imagined her  
hand reaching to pick up the card. It stayed in place. There were  
restraints around her wrists. 'What?'

A nurse entered, her face registered slight surprise, then she left  
again. The door opened again almost immediately. A woman she presumed  
was her doctor walked in.

"I see that you're awake." The doctor smiled pleasantly, yet  
professionally.

'Where is my father?'

"You are in a hospital, in Nerima, and your name is Kasumi. Please  
raise the fingers on your left hand if you understand all these  
things."

'Yes, but where is my family? What time is it? How long has it  
been...'

"Do you understand? You've had major throat surgery. Please raise the  
fingers on your left hand if you understand what I am saying."

'Where is she? Can she get to me?'

"Tendo Kasumi, please indicate that you understand by raising your  
fingers."

Tears threatning to overflow, Kasumi weakly raised her fingers, just a  
bit. The doctor's expression softened. "That's a girl.

"My name is Dr. Tanaka. Very glad to meet you, Kasumi." She picked up  
the clipboard laying by Kasumi's side, on a table. "You are  
improving. Dr. Tofu came by earlier to drop these off."

Dr. Tanaka touched the petals on one of the flowers. "You're a lucky  
girl. In many ways."

+++

The sound of the work crew kept Nabiki awake. The hole in Akane's room  
was large, but not unmanagable. She had hired them at triple their  
usual salaries, to work late. The wind chilled the entire house, and  
she had to ask one of them to move Ryoga into the guest bedroom, where  
there was at least a little warmth. She covered him with a spare  
blanket and went to hide in her own room.

The magazine she had been reading was still in the same spot she had  
left it when she heard Kasumi's scream. She wished she could go back  
in time to when she was reading it. Or even before then. Yes, before  
then.

Lamenting the past was not her style. She got out of bed and picked up  
the magazine. One of the men started hammering something into  
place. She sighed and rubbed her eyes. They felt like they were buried  
in sand.

Nabiki hadn't cried this much in ages. She'd try not to make a habit  
of it, she thought wryly. Not like her father. Her father who still  
hadn't come out of his room. She wasn't ready to think about her  
father yet. The way he was standing over Akane. When it was all  
happening, she had a brief inclination to call the police.

Then the police would have been there when he showed up. So she wasn't  
the only one to see him. So she could explain to herself and others  
what exactly made the hole in Akane's bedroom wall. He had been there,  
and she had seen his eyes. Tears seeped from the corners of Nabiki's  
eyes.

"No...not again," she whispered.

+++

She thought she might be safe from the winter. There weren't any  
windows where she was. No windows, and only one doors. The people were  
nice, but brief. She couldn't really remember their names, or their  
faces. They said that they'd transfer her from here soon, to some  
place where she could get help. She wasn't sure what they'd help her  
with.

They would come in and hang a new sack of something next to her, take  
her pulse, and then leave. She felt different. Calm. There was  
something she was forgetting, something that she needed to know.

Something. She shook her head, which was a little hard to  
do. Something was restraining her around the neck. It didn't hurt, but  
was very firm. She thought that maybe she didn't like it, but couldn't  
muster any resistance towards it.

If she moved her head just slightly, she could see the table. Someone  
had put a large bunch of flowers there. It was nice. There was  
something new though. There was a clear cup, like the ones they had in  
school for water, with a flower inside. It wasn't in a vase like the  
other flowers. It didn't have any water inside either. She  
frowned. The flower was going to die.

She squinted her eyes and looked more closely, straining against the  
neck restraint. The flower was already dead. Ahh, she thought. Ahh! It  
was her flower!

The door, her only door, swung open.

+++

Ryoga was the one who found Soun. He had woken up bright and early in  
the morning, to the sound of birds singing outside. The sun had warmed  
his face as he lay on the futon. He had smiled. He had tried to get  
outside, to feel the sun more directly.

Now he was looking at Soun, splayed out on the floor, hands a bloody  
pulp. He closed his eyes. Another one.

Soun moaned and turned over. Ryoga's eyes flew open, and he started  
for the door to get help. His hand touched the doorknob, then he  
stopped.

"Nabiki!" He shouted.

+++

She was digging, always digging, the blood from the raw skin hung over  
her shoulders making the rocks slippery. She'd pick up a huge rock and  
throw it away, wearing her fingers raw. Underneath the rubble she'd  
find babies, photographs, bent bicycles, broken glasses, and red silk  
that turned to blood and dribbled between her fingertips. Everything  
had bits of red on it, and she started to think that it was all coming  
from her, that everything she touched turned to crimson.

She became frantic, digging through the rubble, tossing out love  
tokens, weapons, steaming ramen, all becoming stained through her  
touch. Her fingers became tangled in black hair, black hair becoming  
red in her hands. She pulled the rocks out from around the figure,  
unearthing the battered soul.

Finally she lifted the last stone and realized that the figure was at  
the very bottom of the rubble from the mountain, enveloped by the  
whirlwind of earth and detritus from her life. Her breath caught, she  
had finally found him! Or her, as the case seemed to be at the  
moment.

She crushed the figure to her chest, she cried out in amazed  
fulfillment, she felt the dark hardened thing in her chest fill with  
warmth and beat with the force and vigor befit a true amazon. She  
lifted the figure up, cradling her, soothing her, coaxing her back to  
life. The girl's Chinese garb was tattered, but repairable. She held  
the girl close to her chest, and lifted a trembling hand to brush the  
hair out of her face. The face was beautiful, bloodless, and her own.

Shan Pu sat up in her bedding. She wondered if she had screamed. Her  
heart was still pounding, breath coming in gasps. No, she hadn't  
screamed. Mu Si would have been hovering over her, offering his life  
over hers. Her emotions were still running high, and she looked  
inward, expecting to feel the stabbing pain of despair and love  
lost. She saw again her own face, battered, vulnerable...but  
saved. Saved from the rivers of rock. How long had she been trapped  
inside the remains of that mountain?

Tears flowed from her eyes. She hugged her knees and cried, overcome  
by the sudden release of emotion. Yes, she would grieve, but she would  
move on and once again seize the terrible beauty of life, love, and  
leaving.

+++

"The hospital just admitted your father." Dr. Tanaka looked grave.

Kasumi took the news with a resigned sigh, then lifted her  
fingers. The surgery to reconstruct her larynx was scheduled tomorrow,  
but the possibility of her being able to speak properly again was very  
small. Still she held out, refusing the sign language lessons the  
doctors held scheduled for her, even though it was one of the few  
times they'd let her out of the restraints.

"He has sustained severe damage to the tendons in his hands, and lost  
a lot of blood, but he should make it." Kasumi felt like she should  
have expected this, her father was fragile, and the strain of the past  
year had left him weak. She had a hard time maintaining her  
concentration, under all of the pain killers. One of them was an  
anti-depressant. At least she was pretty sure of that. The surges of  
fear had mostly passed, after her first night of undisturbed rest.

That night she was sure that Akane would come to finish her. She made  
a writing motion with one of her hands, a sign that Dr. Tanaka had  
gotten used to. She loosened the restraint on Kasumi's right arm and  
gave her the pen out of her pocket, along with a pad of paper.

Kasumi wrote three figures.

"A-ka-ne?" The doctor read out loud, then looked up. "She's been  
sleeping." She glanced at the wall. "A nurse should be checking up on  
her in a few minutes."

Kasumi shook her hand, happy to be free, if only for a  
moment. Dr. Tanaka looked a little sad. "We should be able to get rid  
of those in a few days, after your psychological examination. But for  
now..."

Kasumi blinked, then put her hand back on the bed, yielding to the  
last. Dr. Tanaka picked up the buckle and began to fasten it, when the  
door flew open.

"Dr. Tanaka!" The orderly looked frantic. "The younger Tendo is gone!"

Dr. Tanaka rushed out of the room, following the orderly. Kasumi felt  
her panic overcome the drugs, and was suddenly very awake and very  
aware. Her mind went through a thousand emotions and eventualities,  
but then stopped, noticing the unbuckled restraint in glaring relief  
against her bedsheets.

+++

He avoided her gaze while he unbuckled her ankle restraints, then her  
wrists. With trembling hands, he undid the last buckle, failing at  
first, deeply afraid of hurting her. He tugged away the hated devices,  
and she was free. She looked heartbreakingly frail in the florescent  
lights.

She hesitated at first, weak and confounded with drugs. The bed felt  
like it was covered in a thick substance, and it was a struggle to  
move. With a herculean effort, she lifted her hand to his face. It was  
rough, and shattered by scars. Her fingers traced lightly over them,  
without any real recognition.

The touch of her small hand was almost unendurable for him. He had hid  
for so long, first out of betrayal, then out of confusion, then out of  
fear. He was still paralyzed by the thought of her distaste, and  
resolved to disappear at any hint of it in her face. His long journey  
would have been for naught. No, he corrected himself, this is worth  
it. Her hands passed over his mauled lips, and he caught it with his  
own, and pressed it deeply with a kiss.

She looked into his eyes, his blue, blue eyes. His ragged black hair,  
the stubble on his cheeks, his patchwork face surrounded those wells  
of azure, and she loved them for it. Still she felt herself sinking  
though, and as he raised her out of bed, she succumbed to the  
oblivion, with one last word:

"Ranma."

+++

Nabiki surveyed the repairs to the shattered wall, then signed the  
check over to the workmen. She found herself alone in what had been  
the liveliest house in Nerima just a small year ago. Ghosts of parties  
and duels past flitted about her, and she felt a deep nostalgia for  
what had been an annoyance to her before. She had seen her two sisters  
then her father carted to the hospital. And her mother before  
that. She grimaced.

The wild card was back though. She had to keep reminding herself of  
that. He was back. Ranma was back. He had appeared before her like a  
fierce demon, ravaged face, eyes demanding comeuppance.

Perhaps he could make it right. And they'd all sit down to dinner,  
Daddy with his ripped up hands, Kasumi with her crushed larynx, Ranma  
looking like the walking dead, and a drugged out Akane. What a joke.

A giggle turned into a guffaw, and soon Nabiki was laying on her back,  
clutching her stomach, and laughing until she thought she'd split in  
two. She wiped away her tears and brushed herself off.

She walked downstairs, finally ready to make the phone call to the  
hospital to check on her father and sisters. The front room had an odd  
quality to it, and she finally figured out that it was the sun shining  
in through the shogi. It had been so long since she had seen the  
sun. She marvelled in it, wanted to draw it in through her pores, feel  
it in her eyes and teeth. She threw open a window and breathed  
deeply. The air was still cold, but with a sweet humidity, and she  
could see the snow melting. It was like a lifeline, a tether to a  
sweeter future. It was a promise.

Nabiki heard a noise behind her and turned.

Ranma was standing in the doorway, cradling Akane, outlined in radiant  
sunbeams. Akane was swaddled in hospital bedclothes. Nabiki opened her  
mouth to ask the usual array of questions, but was interrupted by the  
phone ringing.

"Don't tell them we're here." His voice was the same, she noted. Maybe  
a bit huskier, but still the same.

The phone kept ringing.

"Okay, Ranma." He turned and carried Akane up the stairs. Nabiki  
answered the phone.

"No," she lied, "I haven't seen her."

+++

Kasumi hurriedly unbuckled the restraints on her arms and legs and  
arranged her clothes as well as she could. With a muffled gurgle, she  
pulled the IV out of her arm. Blood came up in big bubbles, like a  
belching spring or mud pit. She staunched it as best as she could with  
her bed sheets, then prepared to get out of the bed.

She had no doubt that Akane was on her way. Dr. Tofu would help her  
though, and hide her. Then they could perhaps leave this place  
forever, leave her broken family behind her, and start a new one. A  
new perfect family that didn't have these distressing issues. Maybe  
she could go to school for a little while, and have a nice job before  
she and Dr. Tofu got married and settled down. Or she could get away  
entirely, and find a gallant man in Tokyo, one who didn't know about  
her past, didn't know her as the older sister of that poor sick girl.

That sick girl who was coming to kill her.

Kasumi finished wrapping the sheet around her arm, then slid off the  
bed. She was immediately yanked back. The respirator. How could she  
have forgotten? The tubes connecting her to the machine were suddenly  
insidious tentacles, grasping at her, keeping her in danger.

She began to pull, and doubled over in agony, clutching her  
throat. The movement of the tube ground against her crushed larynx,  
the feeling akin to swallowing glass. Her diaphragm jerked against her  
lungs, desperately trying to cough. Kasumi tried to suck in more air,  
but found that she couldn't breathe--dislodging the tube caused a  
blockage of some kind. She grasped her throat again, oblivious to her  
former threat, desperately trying to cope with her current one. She  
clawed at the tube, pulled through the agony, lungs twitching in her  
chest. The coughing had started again and Kasumi felt her whole body  
shake violently. The world started to swim and she found herself  
falling, falling off the bed, movement yanking the tube the rest of  
the way out. Blood burst from her mouth, following the trail of the  
tube.

Her cheek was pressed against the floor, and she felt like a fish out  
of water, unable to breath, with no ready solution. She beat her fist  
against the cold tile in frustration, tears mingling with the blood  
pooling on the floor.

Too late, she saw the switch on the wall to call an orderly. Now it  
was so far away, and she was feeling so weak. It was like it was at  
the end of a tunnel a million miles away, and the tunnel was getting  
darker and darker.

+++

Akane had started shaking at dusk. It was a slight tremor at first,  
but it developed into a steady staccato against her bed. She woke up  
somewhere in the middle of it, teeth chattering against an imagined  
cold. Her eyes darted around the room and found the tattered figure,  
slumped in a chair. He looked to be in worse pain than she. Ranma got  
up and clasped her hand, still unsure of himself around her. He wanted  
to cling to her, to never let her go.

She'll make her decision after she gets through this, he thought  
grimly.

"Ranma...I'm so cold." Akane spoke through chattering teeth. He drew  
the blanket over her and felt her forehead. She was clammy to the  
touch.

"Akane." His voice felt odd after long disuse. "Akane, you're going to  
have to get through this. I'll help you." He felt the hatred rising in  
himself again at the thought of the heavy narcotics Kasumi had been  
pumping into her. When he found Akane alive again, he just thought she  
had forgotten him and was living happily ever after. How wrong he was.

Akane smiled up at him. She was a brave girl, and trying to break free  
in her own way.

"Akane, I'm going to tell you a story, something to keep your mind off  
of the pain." Even through her withdrawal, she saw the look on his  
face and grew serious. She nodded and tried to keep her teeth from  
chattering.

+++

And if I never see her again?

I think, if they told me so  
I could convulse the heavens with my horror.  
I think I could alter the frame of things in my agony.  
I think I could break the System with my heart.  
I think, in my convulsion, the skies would break. -DH Lawrence,  
"Mutilation"

+++

In the morning, there is that little bit of peace as you come out  
of slumber, a moment of quiet before you are fully aware of yourself,  
your surroundings, your obligations for the day. It's probably what  
keeps most of us sane, that second of drowsy numbness.

Ranma had no such luxury.

His eyes wouldn't open.

His eyes wouldn't open, and his lips could not scream. He was alive.  
Alive, against all of his hopes and wishes, alive in a world without her.  
He won all the right battles, but lost in this last one.

His muscles tensed and he forced all of his concentration into taking  
inventory of his pain. Ah, there was leg pain, hip pain, rib pain and arm  
pain. And something wrong with his face. His pop taught him that the  
pain was okay, it was the numbness that'll getcha. He sent his sensors  
out, like little soldiers tramping along his body, to seek out the bad  
spots. Some of his toes wouldn't work. The kneecap of his left leg  
didn't seem right. His hip in the same leg wouldn't respond. Chest,  
arms, okay, but his some of his fingers were a no go. Something about  
his jaw, his nose, his left eye was bad. His tongue gently felt some sore  
teeth, one, two missing on the bottom row. Bright stars exploded against  
his eyelids, red, white yellow, and someone was approaching. A cool hand  
touched his cheek.

"Awake, hmm?" The voice was deep and grovelly, seemingly unused to  
speech.

Ranma only managed a few strangled noises.

"You probably shouldn't try to speak quite yet there boy. You've had a  
bit of a scrape." The voice laughed at his own joke.

'No fucking kidding,' Ranma soundlessly rejoined.

The man's laughter doubled and a croaking noise joined him.

'A frog?' Was Ranma's last thought before darkness claimed him again.

+++

Nabiki listened, strained her ears as she never had before. She  
listened, and made herself comfortable at the door.

+++

Ranma learned there was pain and Pain. His legs, his eye, that was pain.  
Remembering her face as he had last seen it; eyes closed, lips slightly  
parted, black hair wildly framing her still face. That was Pain. There  
was only one escape from both of them.

"Boy, you are not going to die." In his musings, he had not heard the  
footsteps. A wet reed was placed between his lips. "Can you drink?"  
Ranma forced his sore tongue around the straw and drew the liquid  
into his mouth. It was cold and sweet. He suppressed the cough  
that threatened to expell the water.

"See, you are either going to get better or stay in bad shape. You will  
not die." Ranma let the reed slip from his lips.

"You did it. Tekkai didn't believe that you could, that old rotten  
bastard. I told him you could probably beat him back to Edo with his  
own damn crutch." The man chuckled, but no frog joined him this time.

"You did it, but now you need to get over it. You determine your state  
now, and worldly attachments will only make the process slower." The  
straw was held up to his mouth again.

"Tastes good, doesn't it? It's the last you'll have until you decide  
to heal at least one eye." Ranma heard a strange shuffling sound in  
the corner of the room and tensed out of habit.

"Wouldn't it be nice if you knew what that was? Meditate upon the Cave  
of the Blue Dragon, boy. Your loss has shown you true  
nothingness. Embrace it, and heal yourself." The man walked out of the  
room, and whatever it was in the corner shuffled after him.

'Martial artists don't need eyes to fight anyway,' he thought  
sourly. 'Though they do come in handy.' He felt like a crushed thing,  
a sack full of broken clocks.

Almost against his will, he looked behind his eyes, and searched for  
any signs of the Cave.

+++

Soun's nurse chattered on about her boyfriend as she spooned food into  
his mouth. At times, to be polite, he'd try to nod, but then she'd  
sternly tell him to be still so she wouldn't spill the food. She was a  
cheery presence though, and reminded him of Kasumi, before Ranma's  
death.

+++

Ranma was thirsty. When he was injured before, he usually had someone  
taking care of him. He had a brief image of laying down in the dojo,  
with his head in Akane's lap. White-hot agony exploded behind his  
eyes.

She was still under the mountain, alone, without him. For all he knew,  
they all were. He had defeated Saffron, but the god had risen again,  
and he had welcomed his coming. He would not have known what else to  
do, with Akane dead in his arms. Dead, after all of his efforts, all  
of the near-misses. Dead, and it was his fault.

It started somewhere in his gut, some place deep down inside, and  
travelled up, growing in force until it forced itself out of his  
blood-encrusted lips,

"Akane. Oh, Akane." This great force was no more than a whisper.

He wanted lips to pronounce her name, he wanted to see to find her  
body. He wanted his arms and legs to work to uncover her, then he  
could cease to function. Then he could fall apart again, like the  
cheap string-filled toys at the fair that would collapse when you  
pushed the button.

He tried to open his eyes, but it was still painful. Sitting up was  
still out of the question. He grudgingly relaxed, and reached inside  
himself. It had been a long time since he had even seen the entrance  
to the Cave.

+++

Akane's breath had evened out, and he realized that she was  
asleep. She was still an amazing creature to him, so sure he was that  
she was dead.

Facing the Cave was the hardest thing he'd ever done in his life. His  
father hadn't put much stock in the spiritual side of Ranma's  
training, and he had only picked it up piecemeal. The Cave of the Blue  
Dragon was the dumping ground for all that he hated about  
himself. Beyond the girl-type, beyond the fucking cats, he found  
Ranma-the-Coward, and Ranma-the-Unworthy. It wasn't a cave, so much as  
it was a muck pit, one he had to shovel through, and toss behind  
himself to make any progress. There were no easy ways, no special  
techniques he could use. And he had healed.

He had healed, beaten the monk and his damn white frog within an inch  
of their lives, and picked through the rubble he had created. He found  
dead deer, goats, all kinds of things, except Akane.

Before Ranma left, the monk had explained to him the concept of  
Sennin, the mountain-men, told him that he was immortal, to leave his  
old life behind him. He had tried to restrain Ranma, in the interest  
of teaching him to heal the rest of his body. Ranma in turn tried to  
explain that he didn't care about healing himself, and that the only  
way to forget would be to die. The Cave was only useful to those who  
wanted to see what was at the end.

He had sat on his piles of rocks and cried in frustration. Someone  
must have saved her body before he was able to bury them  
both. Probably Ryoga. That bastard.

Time passed. He travelled around China, but found no comfort in his  
fellow man. The first girl who had seen him had shrieked in  
horror. Ranma found a certain humor in this. He was Frankenstein and  
Frankenstein's monster, all wrapped up in one neat package. He was  
above humanity, but beneath their contempt.

That moment, outside the house, seeing Akane in the snow, huddled in  
her pajamas...that moment almost drove him insane. He had come back to  
Nerima empty, unsure of purpose. There was the vague notion of finding  
her grave, her ashes, any tangible bit of her existance that he could  
actually touch, and perhaps mourn.

And there she was, standing outside next to the pond. He would have  
gone to her then, but her sister got to her first. Then he had too  
much time to think, 'Why hadn't she tried to find him, did she care,  
was everyone better off now that he was dead?' The little girl's  
wail still reverberated in his ears. He had been an ass, and  
Akane had paid dearly for it.

Ranma stroked her hair lightly, with one twisted hand.

+++

Dr. Tanaka shook her head sadly. Her patient might have been able to  
speak before, but never again, not after what she did to herself. What  
was wrong with these people, anyhow? The youngest goes missing, the  
eldest rips the IV out of her own arm and pulls her respirator tube  
out, while the father rests from obviously self-inflicted glass wounds  
to his hands.

Never again would she think her family situation to be the least bit  
strange. She pulled off her glasses and rubbed her eyes. The police  
would be out looking for the youngest girl. Just how she had escaped  
from her bonds was still a mystery to the staff.

Still, it was devastating to see the girl so changed. When she had  
come in for a broken leg, a little more than a year and a half ago,  
she was a bright, vivacious lass. The chaos that surrounded her had  
livened up the hospital, a place so full of devastation and death. Now  
it looked like the chaos had finally gotten the best of her.

She realized that she had been staring at the linoleum for almost ten  
minutes. Break time was over.

+++

After helping Nabiki with Soun, Ryoga found himself lost again. At the  
moment, he didn't mind. The glade where he sat his pack down was  
quiet, utterly lacking the constant buzz of cities. The snow was wet  
and heavy, glistening with the desperate intensity of a flare about to  
be snuffed out. It bent down the thin bare branches of the trees, slid  
down the bamboo stalks and finally ended its life in clear rivulets  
between the rocks. The birds he had heard yesterday morning were once  
again trilling and diving between the branches, as if freed from a  
long stasis and given one more chance at joy.

He was careful to stay dry in this dripping paradise. There was no  
telling just how far away from hot water he was. Still, he gathered a  
handful of snow and tasted it with his tongue. For the first time in  
almost a year, he smiled.

He thought of Akane in the hospital and immediately became more  
somber. If only he could bring her here, he thought. Take her away  
from all that hate and show her the snow, the birds, and the forgiving  
sunshine. Soon enough the cherry blossoms would bloom, and shake the  
last of the darkness from their hearts.

+++

The bedclothes felt heavy and she struggled to push them down. Her  
hands looked strange to her, bony and white. The room was dark, but  
with lines of bright sunlight outlining the curtains. She ran her hand  
through her hair and cringed at the feel of the lank tangles. She  
rubbed her eyes and pulled her legs out from under the comforter,  
finding it easier to escape out from underneath rather than keep  
pushing at them.

Her toes carefully felt the floor. It was cool and  
foreign-feeling. She put her feet down flat and shifted small amounts  
of weight between them. First one, then the other. They were so  
weak. She was so weak. She felt like a fairytale character, awake  
after a hundred years of cursed slumber.

Using her desk chair as a crutch, she slowly lifted herself up and  
shambled to the window. Pulling with all her might, she managed to  
draw the curtains. The sunlight almost blinded her, and starbursts  
appeared behind her eyelids when she closed them. She opened her eyes  
just a tiny bit, peering through the rainbows of her eyelashes. The  
objects outside swum in her vision, then finally pulled into  
coherence. She rubbed her eyes again to chase the last of the  
starbursts away. The yard was still in chaos, with the pond gone and  
the rock arrangements askew, but the snow was almost gone, with only  
trace amounts of white hiding in the shadows. She touched the window  
with shaking fingers.

She had been asleep for a hundred years. But how much of what she  
remembered was real, and what was a dream? Unwillingly, she replayed  
the agony on the mountain behind her eyes. She felt her own fingers  
raking at her chest in grief. The first injection, followed by  
hundreds more, each numbing her, each making the pinhead of bright  
hatred in her heart for Kasumi grow.

But the last she was unsure about. She was in her own room, not in the  
hospital. Could it really be?

The door behind her opened. She saw him look at the bed, then freeze  
when he saw her standing next to the window. He was so different  
looking. Dark, tattered clothes. His skin looked ancient, all the  
scars were wrinkles from a life lived with too much intensity. She  
clutched the chair, feeling his pain acutely. His hair looked long and  
dirty, and he was unshaven. He was holding flowers. Plum blossoms,  
freshly cut.

Tears escaped her eyes in a rush, and she bent over, sobbing at his  
pain and a crippling sense of guilt. She thought him dead, but knew he  
was alive, and she had not been strong enough to find him. She had  
been trapped here, and had allowed him to suffer alone.

Out of the corner of her eye, she saw the flowers fall, and a pair of  
shoes, walking away from her. Immediately her head snapped up and she  
rushed after him, forgetting herself. Without the help of the chair  
she collapsed in a messy heap, lips opening to try to speak his name.

Immediately he was there, arms around her, cradling her.

"Akane." The word came out like a sigh.

She sobbed into his chest, and he held her close. Fear had come so  
close to destroying both of them.

The last two weeks had been harrowing for Ranma. Akane had gone in and  
out of consciouness, the delirium of withdrawal almost too much for  
him to watch. He had finally taken a break to go outside to walk  
around. He was still so sure she'd reject him that he almost lost her  
again.

Finally the violence of Akane's emotions quieted and she started  
inspecting him. She began by looking at his hands that were holding  
her, noting the purple and white knots of scars deforming them. She  
traced the outline of his chest underneath his rags. The intimacy that  
she would not have dared in a previous life came easily, and without  
fear. She ventured a look into his face, his poor mutilated face, and  
her tears threatened to flow again. He was gazing at her with an  
unbelievable intensity, and she felt small and profoundly weak.

Her brown eyes were too big for her face. Too big for the world. He  
found himself in The Cave again, trapped, struggling with his  
desperate need for her acceptance. Ranma fought, thrashed about  
internally, but again and again found her brown eyes looking at him  
without distaste, without fear. He quit struggling and looked back,  
and he was suddenly beyond his own needs and fears. He was beyond  
needing her acceptance, even beyond needing her. It was enough that  
she existed, enough that he was able to experience some of this  
existing.

He had found the bottom of The Cave of the Blue Dragon, and Akane was  
there, waiting. He found himself hyper aware of everything, of the sun  
coming in the window, of the scratchy feel of the floor underneath  
him, even of the air molecules buffeting his skin, but mostly he was aware  
of the girl in his arms, and of her sudden and beautiful teary-eyed  
smile. He saw her eyes close, and felt himself leaning down and he  
kissed her, and she kissed him, and he felt as if his heart had  
finally begun to beat again.

+++

"I was wrong. That little bastard proved me wrong!" He raised the cup  
of sake to his lips.

"We each find our own way, Gama." He grabbed the bottle from Gama's  
hands and took a swig.

"You uncivilized ass! Tekkai, you'll never change."

"Neither will you." They both laughed and the albino frog in the  
corner joined them with croaks of his own.

+++

Shan Pu looked out of the small window, unaccustomed to this method of  
travel. People were bustling around her, and the seats were small and  
cramped. She fidgeted nervously with her bag, until an attendant came  
and told her to put her bag underneath her seat, or in the overhead  
compartment. Mu Tsu was a few rows back. They had been unable to  
afford seats next to each other on the plane, and Shan Pu was secretly  
glad. They had been getting along better in recent weeks, and she even  
thought of him as a friend, but she still liked her privacy.

The decision to leave had been hard, and she still felt the sting of  
the insults hurled at her by the rest of the tribe. She was selling  
out, she was betraying herself, her family, her heritage...

Shan Pu was ultimately a survivor. The tribe had become stymied in  
tradition, unwilling to change, adapt, and grow. Tokyo had shown her  
both the weaknesses and strengths of embracing the future, and she was  
determined to find her own way.

Everyone was seated now, and the attendant's pleasantly accented voice  
advised her to remain seated, and that the plane was taking off. In  
Shan Pu's hand was a ticket to Hong Kong, and in her bag underneath  
her seat was an old tiger skin, too dear to leave behind.

+++

Ryoga found himself in front of a gate again. It was slightly smaller  
than the imposing Tendo gate, and swung open easily to the touch. He  
breathed in the crisp spring air and put his hand on the worn wood. It  
was not where he thought he would find himself, but it still felt like  
home.

With the beginning of a shy smile, hefted his pack and entered. He'd  
need to get back to check on Akane soon, but he needed a place to stay  
for the night, and here was as good as any place. No, it was probably  
better.

The gate closed behind him, and the sun caught hints of the bronze  
underneath the weathered finish on the surname gracing the door.

A proud name, strong and full of tradition, Unryuu, the cloud dragon.

+++

The phone was ringing again, and Nabiki sprung from her place on the  
floor to answer. It was a welcome chance to keep busy. The last two  
weeks had been odd for her. The house was still quiet, save for the  
ghostlike comings and goings of Ranma, taking care of her little  
sister.

She had achieved a silent truce with him, and she was able to see  
Akane, though not get very close to her. She was still considered one  
of the enemy, and Nabiki wasn't sure how to change that. She also  
wasn't sure if that didn't have an uncomfortable hint of the truth.

Nobody was around to see her quietly rejoice when she got the letter  
in the mail, her ticket out of Nerima. She had been accepted to a  
college just outside of Osaka. While it wasn't the best school  
overall, it had a highly pretigious business college, and it was far  
enough away to give her some breathing room. She wouldn't have to play  
any part she didn't have to anymore.

Dr. Tanaka was on the line, telling her that her father would be  
released later in the day. Kasumi would be held for at least a couple  
more weeks after, then held for an evaluation to see if she needed to  
go to a different hospital. She asked Nabiki if they had seen Akane  
yet, and Nabiki answered her standard no. The police had also come by  
looking for her, but Nabiki was able to deflect their attentions as  
well. People can be pretty gullible when they're sympathetic to you,  
she thought wryly.

She was nervous about her father coming home though. He seemed fine in  
the hospital when she visited, but she still didn't tell him about  
Ranma and Akane being home.

Carefully composing her face, she walked upstairs and stood at Akane's  
door. What was she going to say? How would she handle this situation?  
She ran her hand through her bobbed hair. She'd find a way. She was  
Nabiki Tendo.

She knocked quietly. Then she knocked again, with a bit more  
force. Frowning, she put her hand to the knob and opened the door a  
crack. The bed was empty and neatly made. She opened the door the  
whole way, to reveal a vacant room. The desk had one branch of plum  
blossoms in a vase on it. She rubbed the petals between her  
fingers. Plum blossoms, the symbol of strength and courage through  
adversity. Akane was gone.

+++

They walked underneath the delicate purple and white blossoms, hand in  
hand. Sometimes she'd get tired and he'd carry her, and those were the  
times he liked best of all.

"Where do you want to go?" It seemed such a mundane question to him,  
one he hardly liked asking. He felt as if the globe shifted underneath  
him, but that he stayed in the same place. His scars had started  
healing, ever so slightly.

"I'm not sure. Where does a Sennin go?" Akane had one of the blossoms  
tucked behind her ear. A faint flush had come back to her pale skin,  
and it mirrored the flower.

"I dunno, Akane. Let's find out." He adjusted his grip on Akane's  
suitcase, and they continued on their way.

**Author's Note:**

> 1) X- the punk band from LA, not the CLAMP creation.  
> 2) In the morning I had a look so lost, a face so dead, that  
> perhaps those whom I met did not see me. -Rimbaud  
> 3) And each wound has/the shape of your mouth -Pablo Neruda


End file.
